Presbyopia
by only-more-love
Summary: Presbyopia is the loss of the eye's ability to change focus to see near objects, but sometimes it makes other things crystal clear. x Booth & Brennan x
1. Diagnosis

** A/N:** Ok, so I should probably warn you that I might have been on crack when I wrote this. I started out with the intention of writing this for the Porn Battle at LJ, but this isn't very porny. Well, not yet, anyway. So, FAIL. ;) 

P.S. This has two parts.  
**Prompt: ** Glasses  
**Timeframe:** This is set sometime after Santa in the Slush.

**Presbyopia**: The loss of the eye's ability to change focus to see near objects.  
**Chapter 1: **Diagnosis

_And she's taller than most _  
_And she's looking at me..._  
_Oh she makes me feel like I could be a tower _  
_A big strong tower _  
_She got the power to be _  
_The power to give _  
_The power to see _  
- KT Tunstall

Brennan was watching him with what he (mostly affectionately) thought of as her pinchy face. Her lips were kind of puckered, like she'd just eaten something really sour. When her face wore that expression, he never had to wait long to learn what had caused it. "Why are you holding the report so far away from your face?" she asked. _Bingo._

"It's called reading, Bones. It involves trying to decipher squiggles on paper." He dropped the report next to him. "You should try it sometime." His head pounded so hard he thought the room might actually be shaking.

She sniffed and raised her chin. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

"Sorry, I guess I'm a little cranky." Booth groaned and rubbed his temples.

"Do you have a headache?" she asked, her tone noticeably softer.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, "I do."

"Do you often get headaches when reading?"

"No. Maybe." He sighed and tipped his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he could just sprawl out on her office couch and take a nap. Would she freak out if he laid his head in her lap and asked her to massage it for just a minute? Yeah, probably. No sense in asking; she'd most likely kick his ass seven ways to Sunday. Definitely not what he needed at the moment. "Yes," he finally said, trying not to whimper.

"You should make an appointment with an optometrist. I suspect you have presbyopia."

He opened one eye and squinted at her. "Presbe-wha?"

"Pres-be-O-pe-uh," she said, patiently sounding out the word for him. He closed his eyes again and slumped down on the couch, wiggling a little in an effort to get comfortable. He tried to tune her out. "Age-related farsightedness caused by–"

His eyes shot open and he sat up straight. "Hello, I'm thirty-five, Bones. _Thirty-five_," he said, pounding the couch for emphasis. "And, might I add, in peak condition. Age-related, my ass." He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, consciously flexing them.

"It can begin as early as at age 35, Booth. It's nothing to be ashamed of. With time, the crystalline lens in the eye hardens, causing a progressive decrease in focusing ability."

"Fantastic," he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "So what you're telling me is that I'm going blind."

"No, blindness is defined as–"

"Oh, for crying outloud. What should I do?"

"As I suggested, consult an optometrist. He or she will first perform an exam in order to assess how severe the problem is, and then prescribe the correct lens power."

"Huh."

"You're welcome." She gazed at him expectantly. **  
**

"Don't look at me like that; I didn't say thank you, and I'm not going to."

"I'm aware of that. But you should have." The corners of her mouth quirked up, and she slanted him a glance out of the corner of her eye. "Fortunately for you, I won't charge you for the advice."

"Did you just crack a joke?"

"Yes, I believe I did." A pause. "How was it?"

"Eh, not bad. Now... Could you please be quiet? Just for five minutes?" There was a definite pleading note in his voice, but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures.

She rose from her spot beside him and walked over to her desk. "I'll get you a Tylenol."

"Thanks, Bones." A massage would be nice too—she looked like she had good hands—but maybe that would be pushing his luck. He shut his eyes again.

* * *

_1 week later..._

The doorbell rang, and Booth jumped, jarred out of the light doze he'd fallen into. "Hmm... Coming," he mumbled under his breath. It rang again just as he stood up. "Jesus, I said I'm coming." He shuffled to the front door, feeling every one of his thirty-five years, only unbolting and opening it after he'd looked through the peephole.

Brennan stood in the hall, looking him up and down and frowning when her gaze stopped at his mouth. "You were asleep, weren't you?"

"What? No. I was reading through the notes on the case while I waited for you to get here."

She stepped inside, and he caught a whiff of her perfume as she brushed past him. Mm. Nice. "I'm surprised the Mitchell file elicited such a reaction from you," she called over her shoulder as she marched into his living room.

"What reaction?" He had no idea what she was talking about, so he scratched the back of his neck and snuck a peek at her ass. Damn, the woman sure knew how to fill out a pair of jeans.

"Salivation."

"What?" he asked, hoping she hadn't caught him staring.

She raised an eyebrow, and her lips twitched suspiciously. "You have a bit of saliva right here," she said, pointing her index finger at the corner of his mouth.

"Ha ha. Very funny. I do not."

When she turned away to take off her coat, he took a quick swipe at his mouth, wincing when his fingers came away damp. Great, so not only did he own his first pair of reading glasses—and fall asleep at 7:00 in the evening—he now drooled in his sleep. From there it was a slippery slope to, God forbid, Viagra and Depends. He shuddered. They'd be carting him off to a nursing home before he knew it.

Ignoring the knowing glance she flicked him, he sat down and picked up the file. Flipping the page, he reached for his glasses and slid them on. They still felt funny sitting on his nose, but he had to admit they made it easier to read. And, as a bonus, no more headaches. "So, I think we need to go back and talk to that neighbor, Mrs. Sanderson, again. She definitely knows something. What do you think?"

He glanced up from his notes and tipped his head down to look at her over the rims of his glasses. She was staring back at him with the oddest expression on her face. If he didn't know better, he'd think... No, there was no way. "Bones? What's wrong?"

"You went to the optometrist." A tilt of her head and one long, slow blink. His heart thumped in his chest.

"Yeah."

"You're wearing glasses." Temperance Brennan—master of the obvious. She licked her lips and edged closer, twisting the top button of her shirt and staring at him with an intensity he wasn't used to having directed at him. Toward the bone puzzles she liked to piece together at her lab, yes. Toward him, definitely not. He wasn't sure yet if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

At the very least, a weird thing. "Uh yeah, I am. What can I say? You were right." He laughed and shook his head. "I gotta tell ya, as much as I hate them, they do make it easier to read."

Her hand brushed his as she reached out and took the papers from him. He watched, unable to look away, as she straightened them so that all their edges lined up neatly, and then gently set them down on the floor. "In the interest of disclosure, I think I should tell you something, Booth."

"What?" he said, giving her his full attention.

"I'm finding you strangely attractive right now."

His eyebrows shot up, and he fumbled for an appropriate response. "Why strangely, Bones? Why not just attractive?" Idiot. He mentally smacked himself in the head.

"All right, then," she said, nodding. "I'm finding you very attractive right now." His mouth went dry.

"Oh. Ok." With hands that shook a little, he took off his glasses and set them down on the couch. He only needed them to read, thank God. And uh, no reading happening at the moment.

Then he turned his attention back to Bones, and watched, transfixed, as she bit her bottom lip. Watched as it first whitened and then reddened as she released it, and the blood rushed back in.

Truth be told, his own blood was rushing. South.

Booth almost jumped when she picked up the glasses and put them back on him, her fingers grazing his face and his hair as she did so. She was eyeing him like he was dessert. Which, if he thought about it, both kinda scared and turned him on. In roughly equal parts.

Clapping his hands on his thighs, he dove into the first topic that popped into his head. "So, have you eaten yet? How about dinner? You hungry?" The words tumbled out, one after the other.

"I'm starving," she said, a slow, predatory smile curving her lips.

He gulped. Uh oh.


	2. Treatment Modalities

** A/N:** I lied, albeit unintentionally; this has several parts.

If you've read Ch. 1, you know this was meant to be at least somewhat on the lighter, funnier side. I hope you won't hate me for that.

**Prompt: ** Glasses  
**Timeframe:** This is set sometime after _The Santa in the Slush_.

**Presbyopia**: The loss of the eye's ability to change focus to see near objects.

**Chapter 2: Treatment Modalities**

Inching closer, Brennan trailed a finger along Booth's bare forearm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps and a growing tightness in his pants. He swallowed. "Bones," he said, suddenly clueless about what else he intended to say. The word came out a little husky, so he cleared his throat and fumbled for a way to extract himself from what he knew in his gut -- and other parts -- was coming -- without embarrassing either of them.

"Booth," she replied. Her warm breath misted across his cheek, almost pulling a groan from him before he forced himself to swallow it.

"How about pizza?" he asked, hopefully, working to lean in the opposite direction without looking like that was what he was doing. "I've got some Domino's coupons in the kitchen, and let's face it, we haven't done pizza in way too long."

_Idiot_. Booth grimaced and mentally smacked himself in the head. Despite knowing he was babbling like a world-class moron who'd never talked to a girl in his life, suave Seeley Booth couldn't seem to shut up -- or summon any of the infamous charm he was used to using on the ladies. _Get a grip; you really are getting old, man_.

A good soldier knew when to retreat. But just as he was about to stand and escape to his kitchen in order to regroup and consider another strategy, Brennan grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and yanked downward.

Booth found himself sprawled on top of his partner, the sudden move having caught him off-guard.

Gritting his teeth against the feel of Brennan wriggling underneath him and creating an all-too-pleasant friction against his crotch, Booth closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This breath brought with it the taste of Brennan's perfume, and for just a moment, Booth allowed himself to wonder how she'd taste if she spread her thighs and opened herself to his hands and his mouth.

When he dared to open his eyes, Brennan looked up at him with a slight smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "I know what you're going to say," she said, her left hand painting small circles on his shoulder. From anyone else, the motion might have been soothing. Since it was Brennan doing the touching, it only made him ache for her.

"You do?" he asked, desperately trying to ignore the way her full, soft breasts were pressed against his chest.

"Of course," she replied, shooting him her patented I'm-Dr.-Temperance-Brennan-and-you're-an-imbecile look. "You're going to remind me of the metaphorical line between us and tell me that to cross it would bring dire consequences -- perhaps even the hellfire and damnation your religion is so fond of mentioning."

"Well, maybe not hellfire and damnation, Bones, but--"

The rest of his words evaporated as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of the tailored white shirt that taunted him every single time she wore it -- and spread it open so that he could just make out the tantalizing curve of the breasts he'd been dreaming about for an insanely long time. The tip of Brennan's tongue slipped out to wet her lips; Booth's hard-on throbbed in response. He struggled for control.

He was only a man. Only human. He couldn't fight his body's response to this woman, to the press of her curves and the flash of those gray-blue eyes as she looked at him with desire written so clearly on her face he thought she might blush if she could only see herself right now...but he'd be damned before he'd hurt her or be a part of something she could regret.

Booth lifted himself onto his arms. This had the unfortunate effect of bringing their lower bodies closer together. His muscles strained, not from the effort of holding him up, but because of the contact between him and Brennan. Sweat broke out on Booth's forehead, and he had a quick exchange with The Big Man. _Dear God, if this is a test, so far I'm failing. _

Simultaneously, he had a chat with The Other Big Man, the one in his pants, that went something like this:

_Dude, don't fight it. She wants you._

_This is Bones._

_Hell yeah, it's Bones -- the same Bones that's played the starring role in your last fifty fantasies. Loved that last one, by the way; the little skirt was a nice touch--_

_Shut up. You don't understand; I can't do that to her._

_Fine. You don't have to do anything. It's a dirty, dirty job, so let **me** do it. I'll take one for the team._

A hand at his jaw brought him back.

"I want you" -- she blinked and dragged her thumb across his bottom lip -- "and you want me," she said, her stark words bringing a wash of warmth to his cheeks. "I can feel it." She tipped her hips up, boldly rubbing her heat against him, and he swore under his breath because he wanted so badly to undo the jeans that clung so sweetly to Brennan's curves and slide them down those long, long legs. "Don't even try to deny it."

He almost laughed; it was just a little too late for denial.

His glasses slipped down his nose, but Brennan helpfully pushed them back up. "You're the one who's always pushing me to take more chances. 'Lighten up and live a little, Bones,'" she said, mimicking him with surprising accuracy.

When he tried to roll off her and get up, she hooked a leg over his hip. _Oh, hell. _Sure, he could have forced her to let him go, but something that wasn't physical held him frozen in place.

She shrugged a slim shoulder. How she could look so casual, so calm, he had no idea. "But then," she said, her narrowed eyes signaling her intent to go in for the kill, "I suppose it's easier to dole out advice than it is to live by it."

"Hey, that's not fair," he protested, feeling a hint of anger begin to mix in with the crazy cocktail of other emotions swirling inside him.

"Isn't it?" She sniffed, somehow managing to seem like she was looking down her nose at him when in fact, she was looking up. "Tell me something, Booth, when are _you_ going to live a little? Don't you ever get tired of being pious and noble?"

He barked a laugh. "You think I'm being pious and noble? If you knew what I wanted to do to you right now," he muttered.

"So go ahead, Booth. I'm listening," she said, threading a hand through his hair and tugging his face closer to hers. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

_To be continued..._

* * *

**As always, many, many thanks for reading. :) And if you have time, I would certainly love to hear what you thought, even if it's just a short sentence.**


	3. Clinical Trials

**A/N**: If you've read Ch. 1 & 2, you know this was meant to be at least somewhat on the lighter, funnier side. I hope you won't hate me for that.

**Timeframe**: This is set sometime after _The Santa in the Slush_.

**Presbyopia**: The loss of the eye's ability to change focus to see near objects.

**Chapter 3: Clinical Trials**

"Bones," he said, inhaling sharply through his nose and arching backward in an effort to evade his partner's grabby hands, "trust me, you do not want to go down that road."

"Why not?" she asked, gazing up at him, all innocent eyes and flushed cheeks. When he accidentally glanced down at her two undone shirt buttons, he had to remind himself why not, too.

"Because this is one genie that's not going back in the bottle once it gets out." Why didn't she understand that this was just a bad, bad idea? A fucking terrible idea, in fact, he reminded himself. Worst idea in the history of man. Worse than New Coke. Except...except...

"I don't understand--" Of course she didn't. This would be way too easy if she did. And why should anything ever be easy for Seeley Booth?

Reluctantly, he pulled away, forcing himself to climb off the couch -- and Brennan. At least the old thing had gotten close to seeing a little action tonight; definitely more than it had witnessed in exactly how long Booth didn't want to determine.

Love life? What love life? If actions spoke louder than words, Booth was a true believer in celibacy. Maybe he should break his lease, quit his job, and find the nearest monastery.

He leaned back against the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him, trying to get comfortable despite the hard-on that currently made it just a tad tough to do so. On the bright side, he didn't need to add Viagra to his "to buy" list yet. "Come here," he said. Booth kept his voice light and friendly, patting the floor next to him and remaining silent until she moved, her arm and shoulder grazing his and sending an electric tingle shooting through his body. Man, was he that hard-up? If anyone would have that effect on him, he silently acknowledged, it would be Bones.

After heaving a sigh that would rival anything Methuselah himself could produce, Booth continued his explanation. "You're my partner, Bones," he said. "We're friends," he added, emphasizing the second word. "I can't talk about this with you and then just go back to pretending--"

"Pretending what, Booth?" she said, interrupting him, as usual. Apparently, allowing him to finish a thought was just too much to expect.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks while he tried desperately not to think, again, of how he wanted to shred every bit of clothing she wore and feast on her delicious, naked body. God only knew how he was going to make it through this night without a series of arctic showers. If he survived tonight, period, it would be a small miracle. "Bones--"

"Oh grow up, Booth!" Brennan's furious gaze snapped to his, yanking him away from his horny thoughts, and Booth's eyebrows shot up in surprise. What the hell did she have to be mad about, anyway? One of them had to be adult and responsible.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We are adults. Both of us," she said, punctuating each word with an impatient jab to his shoulder. The woman didn't need a gun; her fingers were lethal weapons.

"Ow. Stop that," he said, shoving her hand away.

"You are a grown man; you should be capable of discussing sex without blushing and stalling and avoiding the subject like...like someone who has never had intercourse before."

Against every instinct in his body, Booth struggled to do the right thing. "You know damn well I'm not a virgin." His partner was baiting him, and he knew it. But the woman pushed and pushed, knowing exactly what would get him going. She just didn't seem to know when to quit. Then again maybe she did, and that was the whole point. Those eyes of hers -- those ridiculously gorgeous take-me-to-bed-for-a-week eyes -- whipped a challenge at him, one that made his heartbeat thud heavily. "Prove it," they said, tugging at his already weakening resolve.

Booth had a choice to make, and he knew it. He'd done his best to give her an out, to convince her they shouldn't take this detour. But she seemed determined to do this, and if she wanted this, him, so badly, he wasn't going to be able to deny her any more than he'd been able to deny her a mistletoe kiss and Christmas with her criminal father.

Narrowing his eyes, Booth nodded, just once, then let his face smooth out. "You think" -- he shifted toward Brennan, moving in until her eyes started to flutter closed -- "I'm trying to be noble. You're wrong. Dead wrong. I want..." The last words came out on a whisper, the barest puff of air; he was so close now he felt her shudder. Good. She might have been the one to start this, but he was going to control it.

His right hand drifted down to curve around her neck, his thumb coming to rest over her pulse point. One gentle stroke across her warm skin and her breath came faster. He heard it. He felt it, a wave of satisfaction sweeping over him when he realized the effect he was having on her with a simple touch. He'd only begun. Booth knew he was a good lover; tonight he intended to be a great one.

"I want," he continued, "to kiss you until you forget everything but me and how I'm making you feel." Sliding a hand into the softness of Brennan's hair, Booth angled his head--

She pulled back. "It is highly improbable that a kiss, even from you, could cause me to forget all the knowledge I've worked so hard to acquire. In fact, I would venture to say that it is impossible."

--and dropped his hands, sitting back on his heels. "Says who? I'm a damn good kisser. And hey, a kiss woke Sleeping Beauty. Why couldn't one from me give you a little temporary amnesia?" he said with a wink.

The curve of her lips took on a condescending twist. "_Sleeping Beauty_ is a fairy tale, and therefore not meant to be interpreted in a literal fashion."

"_You're_ telling _me_ I'm being too literal?!" he nearly yelped. "That's just great."

"If the sock fits..." she replied on a shrug, looking way too self-satisfied.

"Shoe," he said, and groaned. "It's 'If the shoe fits,'" he said, rubbing his forehead. "Why are we arguing about fairy tales, anyway? You want me, and I'm telling you you can have me--"

"I want you, yes, but it is exceedingly evident that you desire me, as well. Your motives are hardly altruistic."

"Of course they're not," he said, trying not to shout. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. When he thought he had himself back under control, he opened his eyes to look at her. "You want me, and I want you. It's mutual. Now" -- he inched closer, smiling --"since you asked, I was trying to tell you what I wanted to do to you."

"I would like it very much if you continued," she replied, a hint of a smile touching her mouth.

"Good." Remembering that he was still wearing his reading glasses, he reached up, intending to take them off.

Brennan stopped him with a hand on his arm, her smile widening and taking on a mischievous slant. "But please leave your glasses on."

_To be continued..._

* * *

As always, many, many thanks for reading. :) If you leave feedback, thank you for that, as well.


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